


Desperate Times

by Jemisard



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19122346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: Detective Weyland is desperate for a break on the case and Eudora Patch suggests a seance might clear things up for him.(Graphic descriptions of violent injuries on the dead.)





	Desperate Times

"How long has it been here?"

"Eighteen months? It's hard to say for sure, between the vacuum sealing and the weather." The pathologist shrugged. "Not more than three years, this place was rebuilt then and they would have presumably noticed if this place was being used as a torture cell."

"How can you even be sure of torture?" Weyland moved to look from another angle. "Given the condition..."

"Because some of those wounds bruised. Bled. The dead don't do either, not like the living." Clary stood up, dusting off her knees. "Without the hands and with the teeth knocked out, and yes, both of those could have been pre-mortem, I don't know if we'll get an identification, let alone any leads for you."

"Shit." Weyland pushed his hand through his hair. "Nothing?"

"Doubtful. Sorry. I'll do what I can."

But do what I can was essentially a death knell on the forensics from their pathologist.

Dejected, Weyland started to walk back to the car.

"I might be able to help."

Weyland looked up. "I don't need your help. I'm a detective too."

She looked annoyed. "No, dimwit. I can probably get you a lead, if you get nowhere. I can give you a number, tell him that I gave it to you and you need a seance."

"A seance? Are you fucking kidding-?"

"Tell him that, and he will get you your lead. But only call if you're desperate, because it will change everything you think you know about the world." Patch gave him a card, with a phone number scrawled on it. "And this isn't for you. It's for her and the others like her."

###

Twenty four hours because twenty four days and despite a wealth of evidence that horrific things had happened in that place, there was nothing that gave them any lead to who the victims were or how they befell the awful fate that they did.

Weyland finally cracked and dialled the number he had been given.

It rang for a little bit before being picked up with a gruff, curt, "Speak."

"Detective Patch gave me this number and said... I apparently need a seance?"

There was silence for a little bit. Noises in the background suggested some kind of exercise going on.

"Hello?"

"Patch told you that."

"... yes? It's a pretty nasty case and we're drawing a blank. We need _something_ to bust it open."

The silence came back. This time, Weyland was determined to wait it out.

"Give me the address. I'll text you when we can meet you there. Just you. Patch, if you need someone else to come along and hold your hand."

The sneer in the voice and verbal dig worked shamefully well. "I'll be there alone." He gave the address and then the phone disconnected.

It only took an hour for the text to come through. Three that afternoon.

###

It took Weyland a moment to place the smaller, dark man in black as the one who hung around crime scenes and Patch a lot. The name eluded him, but he was sure of the identity.

The other man was clearly not someone who investigated crimes. In fact, he seemed far more likely to be in the middle of them, with his wild curls and strange, drunken gestures and chatting away to a broken wall like it was an old friend.

"Weyland," the darker man said. "I'm Diego, that's Klaus. You'll meet Ben later. Maybe. He's chasing off anyone who might want to get in ahead of the victims."

That sentence almost made sense, in that the words were all English and meant nothing when strung together. "You're the... seance?"

"That's him." He jerked his thumb at Klaus, who was hugging himself tightly now, creeping over to the wall to whisper. "I'm here to make sure everything goes okay on this side of things."

"Right." Weyland looked at Klaus again and back. "I'm not sure what's going to happen here."

"We're going to stand here, out of the way. Ben is going to keep everyone we don't want to talk to off Klaus so he can find the victims you want and manifest them for you. It won't be court admissible, but it will give you somewhere to start looking." Diego folded his arms over his chest, looking tightly wound and vaguely unhappy.

Weyland suspected that was just his default state.

Klaus had straightened up and was waving one hand in the air, lofty and regular, some kind of conductor. Then he paused and looked at something that they couldn't see, the colour draining out of him. "Oh, hey. Oh, they really did a number on you, sweetheart. You've got some friends with you back there? It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. And that?" He pointed at the wall. "That's Ben, my brother, he's going to make sure no one else can get to you on your side."

It was chilling, in some alien way, watching this man have a very serious, soothing conversation with nothing, addressing different people of different heights.

The conversation went very soft for a bit, until finally Klaus turned around and sat on the ground. "Come over here and sit down, Natalie's willing to come and talk to you, but she's going to be down low here."

Diego gave Weyland a small shove to make him walk forward, then another on the shoulder to 'encourage' him to sit. 

"Ben joining us?"

"No, there's a couple of very loud, aggressive guys from the property over, he's encouraging them to go away." Klaus tucked his feet up into the lotus position, which was impressive considering the skin tight leather pants. "Now, be nice, detective, Natalie had a very hard time."

Weyland was going to ask, but then Klaus held out his hand to the empty space between them and something started to appear.

It was a glow, at first. A pale blue glow that stretched from fingertips to the air and started to make a shape. It ran over a mangled hand, picking it out in light and shades of blue, an arm, and a body became visible over a painfully long ten seconds.

It was the corpse of a woman. It was definitely a corpse, from the maimed hands and face and breasts, down to the brutally amputated legs and Weyland ripped his gaze up to the single eye remaining in the socket before his brain recalled details of some of the bodies they'd found.

Klaus looked almost corpse like himself, washed out and monochrome in the light the ghost was picked out in.

Weyland felt sick.

"Detective, this is Natalie. I can hold her here for a little bit, so get asking, if you would."

Some kind of professional instinct kicked in, despite the horror of the moment. Weyland pulled out his notebook and pen and started asking.

It was almost like a regular victim interview. Barring everything that was clearly wrong, Natalie spoke like a person, like the woman she was in life. She gave her details, details of the men she could remember, what happened, who else she had seen since her own death.

Klaus was silent while it happened, eyes mostly closed and a pale light spilling from the slitted lids. He kept his hand outstretched for Natalie's stump, the connection holding her where she was.

But the light was starting to crackle erratically. Natalie's form shimmered, rippled, like a reflection in water with a pebble dropped into it.

"Klaus, time for her to go." Diego came over, nudging his brother's shoulder with his knee. "Can you release her?"

Klaus shook his head, tight and sharp. "Not until she's seen justice."

"Right. That'll be up to you, detective. Say goodbye to Natalie."

Somewhere in the conversation, Weyland had stopped noticing that his victim was dead, mutilated and a ghost. It wasn't something you could miss, but the impact had faded away until that moment.

"Oh, right. Um... thank you, Natalie. I'll make sure your family know what's happened and we'll chase these bastards down."

Natalie's battered face shifted into what was probably a smile and then she was gone and Klaus was sagging forward, panting for breath.

Diego moved to intercept the drop, but something else seemed to catch the pale man before he went any further forward and then he was leaning back slowly, exhaling as he reclined onto something that wasn't there.

"Thanks, Ben," Diego said to what seemed to be a random space. "You going to introduce yourself to Weyland?"

"No," came a soft reply from a slightly different spot. " _He's had enough shocks today and he has to get back to work._ "

Diego shrugged and looked at Klaus. "You did good. Come on, let's get somewhere quieter and nicer than an old torture room ruins."

"Waffles?" The previously limp and barely responsive Klaus was suddenly looking quite bright and chipper again. "I want waffles. With maple syrup. And chocolate chips. And a chocolate malt thickshake."

"You can have waffles with syrup and coffee like a normal fucking adult." Diego hauled Klaus off the ground. "Well, Weyland? What you waiting for, fucking permission to go back to work? You've got your leads, your names, we're not going to write the fucking report and chase the case for you."

Weyland shook his head, stepping back and away from the strange men. "No. Thank you. This'll make a huge difference."

"I didn't do it for you," Klaus replied, lofty and somewhat dismissive. "When you get the bastards, come back here and tell them. They'll want to know they've been avenged." 

Klaus wrapped his arm around Diego's shoulders and, half leaning on him, they wandered out again, Klaus still trying to negotiate for maple and chocolate chips and a thick shake.

Weyland hoped he never had to call on them again.


End file.
